


i think you'd look pretty good on me

by redbrunja, roadhymns



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadhymns/pseuds/roadhymns
Summary: Her body fits perfectly along his, as if she is a bespoke suit.Gaby takes advantage of her Milan hotel room... and Illya.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller
Comments: 7
Kudos: 110





	i think you'd look pretty good on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turningleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turningleaf/gifts).



It's warm in their Milan hotel room, warm enough that when she creeps back to bed, Illya is stretched out with no covering, the sheet tangled around his calves. His pillow is pushed to the side and his head is resting away from her, in the crook of his folded arms. She takes a long time just looking at him; she so rarely gets to see him like this, naked without one of them wrapped around the other. She watches the rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath, catalogs his scars. Her fingers hover for a moment over the dip of his spine, the hollow in the small of his back. She wants to touch him, but she knows if she does he'll wake up, roll his head toward her, curl around her again. She doesn't want to be curled around right now.

Instead, she pushes herself up with an elbow and throws a leg astride him. She settles herself along his back and stretches languorously; his body is solid and warm beneath her. He exhales under her weight and begins to stir, so she slides her hands up his arms until she can rest them on his elbows. Her body fits perfectly along his, as if she is a bespoke suit. Her cheek rests against his neck, her breasts flatten against his back, her hips fold over the curve of his ass. Even their thighs are twinned, down to where she has curled a foot beneath his shin.

She hadn’t known what to do with him until he begins to move, to wake up more fully, and another exhale accompanies the shift of his center. She adjusts her weight to keep him under her and he breathes in quickly; her fingers tighten on his elbows as she realizes the opportunity before her. Sliding her hands further along his arms, she untucks his folded arms enough to pin his wrists. She presses a kiss to the base of his skull and slides her breasts along his shoulders blades, making soft pleased noises against his ear as the pressure makes her nipples stiffen, until she's sure he’s hyperaware of them. His breath is coming faster now, arousal and anticipation both.

“Chop Shop Girl,” he groans into the mattress when she stops, bucking enough that he threatens to unseat her, and that won't do at all. She bears down harder, until it’s only through movements of her own hips rocking him against the bed that he gets any relief. She kisses the knob of vertebrae just where his neck and shoulders meet and presses against his ass, grinding his cock against the mattress, little playful movements of her hips that seem to threaten to undo him.

“Gaby,” he keens now, forehead pressed to the bed, shoulders arching and shuddering, his muscles taut. She takes pity on him, maneuvers one of his hands from up near his head down to his side, then shifts up enough to slide it between them. Her fingers move his to where she wants them, and he moans when he realizes how wet she is, that this isn't affecting only him. She grinds against the thick of his palm for a few moments while he draws ragged breaths, then plants a knee between his and uses the added leverage roll over him like a wave. He slides up the bed by whole inches as she presses two of his fingers inside her, and she can only just make out desperate Russian being whined into the sheets.

She sets a brutal pace now, rocking over him, each movement a thrust that she uses to take his fingers deeper into her while his cock is trapped beneath their combined weight. She puts her teeth to the meat of his shoulder and he cries out; she directs his thumb over her clit and he shakes under her as he begins to rub circles there, artless and distracted. Fortunately for him, she doesn't need much, is close enough already that she knows it's only a matter of time.   
  
He comes first with a broken noise that's muffled by the bed, the muscles of his back tightening, his hips jerking beneath her. She rides him through it, chasing her own release, and within a few moments she is crooning his praise while she clenches around his fingers.

She loosens her grip on his wrists and collapses against his back, still warm and now sticky with sweat. He's panting still, something that can't be helped any by her weight resting atop him, but he makes no move to roll her off. Instead, she just rises and falls with his every breath. She adjusts so her chin is hooked over his shoulder, reaches up and finds his jaw, tips his head toward her. His eyes take a moment to refocus on her and she presses a kiss to his mouth, which he himself has worried pink.

“Would you like to join me for a shower?” she asks.   
  
“Yes,” he murmurs, then adds, “but in a little while?”   
  
She smiles and kisses him again, still draped atop him and quite willing to wait.


End file.
